


The Case of Lost Birthdates

by Aruccio, pierogis



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday, Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Gift Giving, Javert Lives, One Shot, Post-Seine, Repressed Memories, Valjean Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aruccio/pseuds/Aruccio, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierogis/pseuds/pierogis
Summary: "Cosette realizes that she doesn't know Inspector Javert's birthday in order to celebrate... and she doesn't know her father's."





	The Case of Lost Birthdates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BWIP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWIP/gifts).



“When is papa’s birthday?”

Javert looked up at the girl with confusion. Cosette was standing in the doorway of his apartment, shaking some snow off her winter coat. Her nose, reddened from the cold, glistening eyes and the way she shifted on her feet excitedly made her look a few years younger, like a schoolgirl on a free day.

“Pardon?” Javert tilted his head questioningly.

“Papa’s birthday!” she repeated, rubbing her hands together. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while and we’ve always celebrated my birthday... though it was more of an anniversary of me being taken away from the Thénardiers...” her eyes went dim for a second, then sparkled again, “but we never celebrated papa’s! I don’t even know how old is he exactly, much less his birthdate, so I thought that maybe you know-”

“Sixty-five,” Javert interrupted the flood of words. “He was born in 1769.”

“Oh?” she paused, then beamed. “So you _do_ know something! Can I come in? What about the month and day? When can I get him some gifts?”

“I know no more,” Javert said as he opened the door wider to let her in; he could not simply tell her to leave now. Though Cosette knew that Javert preferred to spend his time without company - or with the company of her father - he did not want to leave her with the problem. In fact, he was curious of that as well. Valjean was so dismissive in matters concerning his own happiness that he might avoid uttering even a word about his birthday for a long time.

Cosette allowed him to help her take off her coat and scarf, then waited until he hung them up on the hanger next to his own.

“I doubt that he will accept any gift,” he said. “In fact, I am certain that he won’t.”

“I know, I know! But I still want to give him something. Javert, please?”

“I have no idea, I tell you. Why don’t you ask him?”

“If I do, he will know what I’m planning and will have the time to come up with arguments not to accept anything,” she explained as she settled on the chair.

Javert sat down across the table from her.

“And this way it will be a surprise!” she continued. “So he will have no time to protest!” she smiled, proud of her idea - it had only one gap: Valjean’s birthdate.

“I see no other option than to ask him, though.”

“But he will know then,” she complained with disappointment.

“Ask in such a way that he won’t,” Javert shrugged.

“Can’t I... I don’t know, see his files at the station?” she groaned.

“You don’t have the permission to do so,” Javert said, though he considered it to be obvious. “If you could do that, it would mean that anyone who wants to look at someone’s files can. It would be dangerous both for the person whose these papers are and the police. If an outsider was let inside the archive, anything could happen - they could steal something, set it on fire-”

“I understand,” Cosette interrupted him with a sigh, then knitted her brows.

Javert tilted his head, noticing that she seemed to have thought of something else. “What is it?” he hurried her.

“You’re an inspector, you could-”

“I am not allowed to use my position for such a trivial reason not connected to work,” he sighed.

“But this is not a trivial reason! A friend’s birthday is an important matter, you should be interested!”

“Cosette, I cannot use my permissions for private reasons,” he emphasized.

Cosette glared at him - though Javert knew that she will not hold a grudge for longer than a few hours - and pouted. “I’ll find another way, then!” she declared.

 

* * *

 

 Cosette walked all the way to her father’s house lost in thoughts. She did not take the carriage to give herself time to think about how to get the information that she needs from her father - and that was his birthdate as well as Javert’s. He might tell her Javert’s, but he will try to keep quiet about his own, Cosette was sure of it.

She had her own keys to the house at Rue Plumet, so Valjean did not have to get up to open the door for her. She bought the house back when he mentioned briefly that it was his favourite and presented him with a fait accompli - if he refuses to live with her and Marius, he has to take the Rue Plumet house.

She stepped into the doorway of the room that he was in. She immediately noticed a warm gleam in his eyes that appeared every time she was around.

“Papa!” she beamed. “I visited Javert!”

“Javert?” he frowned. “He couldn’t come today because he had some paperwork to do. Why are you disturbing him?”

“It was only for a moment,” she waved her hand. “A more important matter is what I learned! Or rather what I _didn’t_ learn.”

“What is it, my dear?” he asked, reaching out an arm.

She walked up to him and embraced him, then stepped back and crossed her arms. “Papa! When is Javert’s birthday?”

“B-birthday? Why do you want to know that?”

“Because when I walked in, there was a package on his desk that looked like a gift!” she made up quickly, not wanting to tell the truth. He would then know that she was going to ask him about his own birthdate.

“I doubt it was a gift,” Valjean paused. “How did it look?”

“Well...” Cosette hesitated, then turned red and averted her eyes. “Is it important how did it look like? The point is that it was there!”

“Cosette-”

“I want to get him a gift too, he refused to accept the watch that Marius and me wanted to get him after he got you a pardon-”

“Cosette,” Valjean put his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at his eyes and regretted it when she saw a flicker of amusement. “There was no package, was there?”

She looked away and nodded, feeling her cheeks burn.

Valjean chuckled and embraced her.

“You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“But-”

“I don’t know when Javert’s birthday is.”

She frowned and moved back. “What kind of friends are you not to know each other’s birthdays?”

“And how do you know that Javert doesn’t know mine?” Valjean tilted his head with amusement.

“I- eh, papa, you’re just like him,” she sighed. “You also won’t accept any gifts. I wanted to make it a surprise,” she pouted.

“Dear...”

“When is your birthday?”

He paled. “The older you are, the harder questions you ask.”

“It’s not a hard question, papa!” she knitted her brows. “Unless you _don’t know_ when it is.”

Valjean’s look was enough of an answer.

Concern appeared in Cosette’s eyes. “That’s terrible! I didn’t remember mine either, so we made up a date - why did we never do that with yours? But why don’t you remember? Is it because-” she hesitated- “because you were in prison for so long?”

“Cosette...”

“I will pick a date for you if you won’t remember!” she promised.

Valjean sighed. “I remember the year in which I was born, but nothing else. Nearly everything from before Toulon is lost to my memory,” he confessed.

“Javert said that you were born in 1769.”

“That’s true. He probably knows it from my files at the police. Don’t they contain the day and month as well?”

“I don’t know. But you know what, papa? I will go to the police station tomorrow.”

“What for?” he asked with confusion. “Javert isn’t working tomorrow- no, he will be at a patrol. From what I know, patrols are shorter than other kinds of work, that’s why he can come early...”

“I know that he won’t be there! That’s the point!” she grinned. “I’ll ask his co workers, maybe they know his birthday!”

“I doubt that, dear.”

“Perhaps in his papers, then?”

“Perhaps.”

 

* * *

 

Cosette’s new idea worried Valjean. He had never wondered what his birthdate might be. It was never important, nobody asked him about that - though it was true that there were not many people who might have asked. Just Cosette or Javert, and he would not expect Javert to be interested in such things.

So finally, it was Cosette who asked. He could have made up a date, any date, just not to let her know that he does not remember it. He did not want to attract attention to himself in such a way, even the attention of those close to him.

 

* * *

 

The next day started with Cosette taking a stroll to the police station. She entered the building, halted after a few steps and looked around cautiously, just in case Javert was there after all. Instead of meeting the inspector’s icy eyes, she saw two different pairs, looking at her curiously from much younger faces of two officers. They sat nearby, openly looking at her.

She curtseyed briefly in a greeting. She was about to turn away and start searching for Javert’s superior when one of them stood up.

Light-coloured curls surrounded his head like an aureole and if it was not for his uniform, Cosette would not be sure if he was old enough to work in the police force. Also - she examined him attentively - Javert’s words about the rules regulating the appearances of officers had to be exaggerated, because otherwise the boy would not be able to have a haircut of this length. He would have to either cut it short or have it long enough to tie it back, if she remembered his words correctly. On the other side, she had long held doubts about the rules being as strict as Javert described them to be. The inspector was simply an older employee, trained on different rules and in a prison, not a police station. Perhaps prisons did have the rules he talked about?

She waited for the young policeman to approach and briefly kiss her hand in a greeting.

“Mademoiselle!”

“Madame,” she pointed out with a smile. He was not the first one to mistake her status.

“Madame,” he corrected himself quickly. “Are you looking for someone? Can we be of help?”

“I’m looking for the closest associate of inspector Javert,” she explained. “My name is Euphrasie Pontmercy, my father is inspector’s close friend. I need some information about him.”

“Pontmercy?” the policeman frowned as if trying to remember something. Then his eyes widened and he turned back to the other officer at the desk. “Nathan. Nathan! She’s Javert’s _friend’s_ daughter!”

The other man’s head jerked up, his face expressing confusion that quickly changed into excitement. A second later he was at their side. “Madame,” he bowed, also kissing her hand. “My name is Nathan Savigny. I have been working with the inspector for the past few years. Are you monsieur Valjean’s daughter?”

“How do you know my father?” she blinked with surprise.

“From what Javert said,” the first policeman beamed.

Cosette noticed that he had forgotten to introduce himself; she supposed that it was because of the surprise at her connection to Javert.

Nathan seemed to notice it as well. He nudged the other officer in the ribs with his elbow. “Have you introduced yourself?” he asked. “Somehow I didn’t hear it.”

The policeman paled a bit. “Ah, pardon, madame! I’m Arsène Savigny. Your father is close to Javert, madame? Javert managed to get him a pardon instead of a sentence for the galleys, did he not?”

“Yes,” she smiled, remembering the two of them together. “They get along well. Why do you ask?”

“It’s unusual! Javert never had any close acquaintances, it’s so strange of him to have a friend,” Arsène beamed.

“My father saved him during the uprising,” Cosette noticed. “It... brought them together.”

“Nothing more? I’m not accepting this!” Nathan laughed. “Javert has been tracking him down since before he even moved here, and that was enough to make him all that friendly? ‘ve been working with him for years and he still barely tolerates me!”

“Are you asking me to explain the phenomenon of friendship?” Cosette asked with amusement. “It works in various days, and it seems like it has worked well for them.”

Nathan seemed slightly disappointed, not having received the information he wanted, but immediately his eyes lit up again. “I heard that you have been looking for the inspector’s closest associate. I might be more of an subordinate, but I might just be enough to help. I’ve been working with him for the longest time, not counting a few of our superiors, and I doubt that they would tell you whatever it is you want to know, madame.”

Cosette’s face brightened. “Ah! It’s only a single question. It has been eating me away for the past weeks and I had nobody to ask.”

“Then ask away,” Arsène nodded excitedly.

“I wanted to get him a birthday gift; I have known him for two years and never had an opportunity to give him anything. Well, perhaps with the exception of the time when he got that pardon... but I don’t want him to know in advance,” she explained. “I don’t know when his birthday is... I hoped that perhaps it is celebrated in some way here? Do you do anything for his birthday?”

“I have no idea when it might be,” Nathan shook his head. “He’s so secretive about himself that I doubt if anyone knows. He probably didn’t celebrate it for the past twenty years or so-”

“Officers Savigny, why are you gossiping about me _again_?”

All three flinched, hearing the familiar voice. They had not noticed Javert enter.

“Ah- Monsieur, we have not-” Nathan stuttered with anxiety in his eyes.

Cosette hid the concern that he might have heard something about the matter of his birthday. “Javert! You should be on a patrol,” she noticed cheerfully. “What are you doing here?”

Javert frowned. “That is a question for me to ask. What are you doing here? Did something happen? A break-in, a theft? Are you unharmed? And Valjean?”

“Nothing has happened,” she laughed. “I was only passing by and I thought that I will come in, but I did not find you here. I simply stayed for a while to chat with messieurs Arsène and Savigny. I was just about to leave. I will see you later!”

She smiled to the two officers and Javert, then calmly walked outside.

 

* * *

 

She was hoping that Javert would forget about her presence at the station, but when she visited Rue Plumet the following day Valjean looked at her in surprise.

“I did not think that you would actually go there right away.”

“He told you?”

“He asked why did you go there yesterday,” he kissed her on the forehead, embracing her.

She pressed her face to his shoulder. “You told him? It was supposed to be a surprise!”

“I said that I don’t know anything.”

“Ah, that’s good.”

“Did you learn anything?” he asked, inviting her to the parlour.

“Nothing at all. He never celebrated birthday at work. His workmate suggested that he has not been celebrating it at all for at least twenty years. I suppose that all I can do is ask him,” she sighed.

“I have a feeling that you will not learn anything this way either.”

 

* * *

 

Cosette returned home with a grim look on her face, wondering what else might help her. She could not think of a single option other than asking Javert himself.

Nicolette came out to greet her. “Madame, two gentlemen are waiting for you in the drawing room,” she said, helping her with her coat.

“Oh?”

“They said that you have met yesterday and asked for you to grant them a few minutes of your time. They were ready to wait until you come back.”

Cosette frowned, following Nicolette to the drawing room. If they were the two policemen that she talked with, did they learn anything new?

“Messieurs,” she said, when standing in the doorway revealed that her suspicions were right.

“Madame Pontmercy!” Nathan put down the teacup and stood up to greet her. Arsène followed into his footsteps.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting for so long. I didn’t expect you to come,” she sat down across from them.

“I will bring the tea, madame,” Nicolette quickly left the room, predicting that she should not hear their conversation.

Cosette barely registered it, moving her eyes between Nathan and Arsène.

“We peeked inside the prefecture’s library,” Nathan started proudly. “Well, he did,” he gestured at the other officer. “Javert’s files include more information about your father than about himself,” he added. “His birthdate there is January 1st. It’s what they put there when it’s unknown.”

“Oh,” Cosette’s shoulders dropped.

“But! Isn’t your father’s first name Jean?” Arsène asked.

“Yes,” she tilted her head. “But why does it matter?”

Nathan chuckled quietly.

“Javert has the same name in his papers,” Arsène explained.

Cosette’s face lit up. “Really? I wondered once what his first name was but then he said that I mustn’t try calling him anything else than Javert, so I forgot. That is good news! Jean! Mon Dieu! Thank you, messieurs. I will tell my father tomorrow.

“We’re glad to be of help,” Nathan smiled.

“Please inform us if you learn anything more,” Arsène added. “I would like to know his birthday as well!”

 

* * *

 

“Papa!” Cosette exclaimed as soon as Valjean opened the door. It was late evening, she went to theatre with Marius, but her thoughts lingered around Javert.

“Cosette?” confusion at her excitement appeared on Valjean’s face.

“These two policemen visited me!”

“Cosette-”

“They were the ones that I talked to back at the station. They said that Javert’s files say ‘January 1st’, so the date is unknown-”

“Cosette. Javert is here,” Valjean interrupted her as they stood at the doorway of the parlour.

The inspector sat at the table with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. He raised his eyes to her. “I don’t know what they did exactly, but I will be sure to ask them tomorrow,” he promised.

“Javert!” Cosette paled, but then clapped her hands, smiling. “You’re Jean!”

Javert raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get that idea?”

Valjean stopped midway to the teapot and looked at them questioningly.

“Nathan and Arsène said that this is what your files at work say,” she explained.

“Why did they look at my files?”

“Because I asked them to,” she said fiercely, crossing her arms and sitting down on the free armchair.

“You asked them?” he straightened his back, then opened his eyes with realization. “Ah, I know. My birthdate?”

“How- how do you know?”

“I guessed it,” he glanced at her with suspicion. “You just asked me about Valjean’s birthday-”

“The files say January 1st,” she interrupted him, slightly embarrassed.

Javert frowned and Valjean hunched his back when his friend’s cold glare moved to him.

“You thought that I know when my birthday is? It was probably you who suggested Cosette to go to the station.”

“N-no, it was Cosette’s idea.”

“Cosette?” Javert looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s true,” she nodded. “I wanted to go and ask by myself! I hoped that they would know something there.”

“You couldn’t have possibly thought that I actually celebrate birthday at work? That I _ever_ did?”

“You had to, once,” Valjean said, glancing at them from behind the stove.

“Yes, but not at work. And when I was four years old. But, on the matter of looking through people’s files - how can you _still_ be fifty-five?”

“Eh?” Valjean tilted his head with confusion, sitting down on the armchair.

“In the files of Ultime Fauchelevent there is a date which says that it’s how old you are now. Just as old as in Montreuil sur Mer?”

“Ah, this,” Valjean smiled lightly. “I’m sixty-five. I wanted to join the National Guard, but I was too old.”

“Papa!” Cosette exclaimed proudly, but then looked at him critically. “You faked the documents?”

“Is that what bothers you?” Javert asked. “Jean Madeleine, Ultime Fauchelevent, Urbain Fabre. And you’re concerned about him taking a few years off himself to join the Guard?”

Cosette blushed, noticing her mistake, but Javert disregarded it with a wave of his hand.

“Never mind,” he said. “Jean, you must know that there is a separate file for Valjean in the prefecture.”

Valjean tilted his head with confusion.

“While Cosette was looking for information about me, I checked _your_ files.”

“Ah, you did it after all!” Cosette leaned forward with a spark in her eyes. “Is there a date? Or is it unknown as well?”

“December 3rd, 1769,” he said, observing Valjean cautiously, looking for any sign of remembering.

Valjean looked down at the floor. “I don’t remember,” he said quietly, as if reading his mind. “Nothing. At all.”

Cosette immediately kneeled before him and took his hands between her own, much smaller ones.

“It’s next week, papa! If you have no memories, we must make some good ones! This birthday you won’t forget,” she added.

A teardrop dripped down Valjean cheek and disappeared in his beard. “My papers shouldn’t know more about myself than me,” he mumbled quietly.

Cosette glanced at Javert with resignation, not knowing what to do, then kissed Valjean’s forehead and hugged him. Instead of doing something good, she only managed to bring more sadness. She should have dropped the topic of birthdays and found another reason to celebrate. But birthdays seemed important to her. Something that everyone should remember and celebrate with their family. To get some gifts, smile at their loved ones and chat about more or less serious topics - and she was going to make it happen.

 

* * *

 

Cosette knew that her father disliked having to spend time in crowded places, so she only informed Marius of the birthday celebrations.

“So let’s organise it on Rue Plumet,” he concluded, putting away the book that he was reading. “Your father, the inspector and us. No one else. My grandfather doesn’t need to know either.”

“We’ll just say that we are going there for dinner,” Cosette beamed, embracing him. “Great! What about the gift, though? I don’t know what to get him so that he would accept it-”

“A book,” he interrupted. “Get him that book you were reading recently. You said it was ‘wonderful’. He won’t deny it if you say that you liked it.”

“It’s not how it works,” Cosette frowned.

“Yes, it is,” he nodded solemnly, but a smile lurked in the corner of his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Cosette easily got absorbed by the concept of a birthday celebration, not being able to take it off her mind for the entire week. Marius’ grandfather asked her a few times about the source of her excitement, but she always managed to find another excuse for it - she and Marius are going to see a play, a book is interesting, papa invited them to visit...

The grandfather asked no more questions.

At last, her awaited day came and she stood in the doorway at Rue Plumet with Marius.

The Valjean who greeted them was not the same Valjean that usually stood there - Cosette managed to bug him into getting a new set of clothes for the occasion.

“Papa, you look great!” Cosette threw her arms around him. “Happy birthday!” she put kisses on his cheeks, then hugged him again.

Valjean chuckled, returning the embrace. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Father,” Marius smiled lightly, saying that word. He was still content to be able to call Valjean that. His hug was tighter but not as long as Cosette’s.

“Come inside. Javert didn’t arrive yet, but I suppose he won’t be offended if we start the cake without him,” Valjean smiled. “There’s enough to last all day.”

“I don’t know,” Marius laughed, putting his arm around Cosette. “With her love for sweets, it might not!”

Valjean laughed, then waited until Marius helped his wife out of her coat and led them into the drawing room where they usually spent time together. “Tea? Wine..?” he looked with question.

“We’ll wait for Javert with the wine. Tea, please,” Cosette smiled widely.

Marius leaned to her and whispered something into her ear.

“That’s right!” she exclaimed. “The gift!” She reached for the bag.

“Gift..?” Valjean repeated weakly, glancing up from the kettle. “It was not necessary, my dear-”

“It’s nothing much, don’t worry,” she said, looking awaitingly at her husband.

Marius tilted his head with confusion.

Cosette raised her eyebrows. “I thought you took the package from the desk?”

“I thought that you were going to take it,” he replied sheepishly.

Cosette sighed and looked at Valjean with apology. “I’ll fetch it before Javert comes!” She stood up and straightened her dress.

“I’ll go with you,” Marius added. “Unless you would prefer me to stay?” he glanced at Valjean.

“No,” he shook his head. “Go with Cosette. It’s late and the streets are not the safest place.”

“Of course,” Marius nodded.

Valjean led them to the door, helping Cosette put on the coat.

“We’ll be back in a minute, I promise!” Cosette said before going outside.

Valjean watched them go for a moment, then he realized that he was not the only one observing the leaving couple. He smiled. “Javert!”

The man standing in the gateway turned to him, hearing his name. “Why are you shouting?” He walked toward the door. “Go back inside, you’ll get a cold on your own birthday.”

Valjean let him inside with a grin and closed the door. “You seem tired,” he noticed, watching him closely. He could see the shadows under his eyes and slightly clumsier movements when he took off the coat.

Javert rolled his eyes. “I am, a bit. Beside - it’s my first time ever being late and it’s for your birthday.”

“That’s no big deal. Cosette and Marius will be even later, as you’ve seen.”

“Why did they leave?” Javert followed Valjean into the room and settled on an armchair.

“Cosette forgot her gift,” Valjean frowned slightly.

“Right. The gift.”

“Jav-”

He ignored him, walking out of the room to reach his coat. He came back after a moment, holding a small box the size of his palm. It did not look out of ordinary, brown in colour and tied with a green ribbon.

“I don’t need a gift,” Valjean mumbled. “It’s not-”

“I didn’t go all that way in a cramped carriage for you to refuse it now. I didn’t know what else to get, so-” he shrugged- “Happy birthday, Jean.”

Valjean did not ask what is it that his lateness is blamed on it, just took the gift and carefully untied the ribbon, opening the box.

For a moment he did not know what he was looking at - then he understood. On the velvet pad there rested a rosary. But it was not a random rosary, he realized; the black beads glistened in the light of the fireplace. Valjean knew these beads. They looked slightly different than how he remembered them, but he had no doubt that they were made out of black jet.

“It’s...” he said hoarsely, “it’s from Montreuil?”

“This is why I was late. I only came back recently, and I had to prepare and find a box- are you crying? For God’s sake, Valjean-”

He cut off, not finishing the sentence when Valjean raised his eyes on him, wiping the tears off his cheeks with surprise. He did not notice that he was crying until Javert pointed it out.

“It’s... thank you, Javert,” he smiled weakly, feeling more tears sting his eyes.

“I knew that this might be a bad idea,” Javert sighed. “I should have found something else.”

“No!” Valjean pressed the rosary to his chest, as if he expected Javert to take it from him. “No,” he repeated, quieter this time. “It’s- it’s a very good gift.”

He placed the box down on the table and put his free hand on Javert’s shoulder. Javert looked at him with question, then stiffened when Valjean stood on his toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you. I couldn’t imagine a better gift.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Javert tried to hide his abashment. “Cosette surely got something better.”

“But yours has a past,” Valjean noticed with a smile. “That’s important.”

He turned back to prepare the tea, so he did not notice Javert breathing out with relief. He put two teacups down on the table and invited Javert to sit down. He sat on his usual spot against the fireplace.

“You went to Montreuil?” Valjean asked, sitting down in the other armchair with the rosary still locked inside his fist. “That far, just to get me a gift?”

“It’s not a ‘just’. And what else was I supposed to get you?” Javert shrugged. “Why do you keep squeezing it?”

“Hm?” Valjean loosened his fingers, slightly surprised. “It... its shape reminds me of the past. I heard that Montreuil fell back into poverty soon after I left, how did you get a rosary from there then?”

“Someone took over soon enough, before it all fell apart,” Javert took a sip of the tea, wincing when the hot liquid scalded his tongue. “True, he doesn’t put as much effort into caring about the city and the people as you did, but he renewed Montreuil and took over the factory and all of the remaining workers. Slowly, the ones who have left started returning; the town is back in a functional state by now.”

“That’s... that’s surprising,” Valjean said quietly, staring into the fire. A contented smile lurked on his mouth.

The sound of knocking came from the front door and he gave a start, as if he was woken up by it. He gave Javert an apologetic look and left to open the door for Cosette and Marius.

Cosette embraced him again, as if she had not been there merely half an hour ago. “Papa! I got it! Is Javert there?”

“Yes,” he nodded, glancing with worry at the bag that Cosette held.

“Oh, that’s bad! I said that we would be back before him,” she frowned and let Valjean help her with her coat.

“He came as soon as you left,” he explained.

“Papa, what’s this?” Cosette asked when she noticed the rosary in Valjean’s hand.

“A gift.”

“How beautiful!” she took it, examining it closely.

Marius frowned. “Is that... the black jet that you used to make?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, taking care to keep a neutral expression.

He led them into the drawing room, where Javert stood up to greet them. “Madame,” he said to Cosette, kissing the top of her palm. He turned to Marius, scowling slightly. “Monsieur.”

“I’m not a madame, Javert!” Cosette laughed. “You keep calling me that when Marius is around! How many times do I need to tell you to stop?”

“Your husband might disapprove of that,” Javert winced at Marius.

“Not a chance,” Marius smiled.

“So, you gave your gift already - it’s our turn!” Cosette announced. “Papa, sorry to keep you waiting for so long, but I got so tangled up that I left it in my room!”

“Don’t apologize, dear,” Valjean accepted the package that Cosette pushed into his arms with another hug.

“Happy birthday, papa. Are you going to open it now?” she moved away, crossing her arms behind her back and looking at him impatiently.

Valjean immediately unwrapped the ribbon and unfolded the paper. What he saw was the cover of a book that he remembered from Cosette’s hands the last time she convinced him to visit them.

“I loved this novel, so I thought you might like it too,” she explained quickly. “I know that you don’t read many books of that kind, but Marius said that you should enjoy it if I did.”

Marius frowned at her revealing that he said that, but Valjean gave no reaction, examining the book with the rosary still tangled around his hand. The tome was new, fresh from the bookstore, not the one Cosette was reading; it made no difference to him.

“Thank you, Cosette,” Valjean said with a smile. “He was right. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

They took their seats, though Javert moved to a chair at the table, next to Valjean. Valjean filled the teacups, then brought the cake that Cosette bought earlier.

“Strawberries?” Javert raised an eyebrow when Valjean handed him a slice - much bigger than he could eat.

“Yes!” Cosette confirmed happily, starting her slice. “Strawberries are delicious! I didn’t know what to buy, and when I don’t know, I pick strawberries.”

Javert nodded, trying a bite. He could not remember the last time he had a chance to eat such things. Usually when he visited Valjean they only had tea, sometimes supper as well, but never sweets. Valjean would never buy such things for no reason - even when he saw any tea other than the cheapest kind, it was either because Javert mentioned that he liked it or because Cosette brought it.

 

* * *

 

The evening passed peacefully - as peacefully as it could with Cosette’s unending energy. Javert noticed that Valjean held on to the rosary for a long time before he decided to put it back in the box and place it in his room.

When the proper time to end the celebrations had come, Valjean’s face was fixed in a permanent smile and Cosette was nowhere near ending her chatter. Javert felt a quiet sense of contentment seeing them and knowing that he had a hand in bringing the situation to this.

When they all stood in the doorway, Valjean did not know in what order should he say his goodbyes. He ended up hugging Cosette. “Thank you, dear.” He bid his goodbyes to Marius as well, and turned to Javert when the couple walked outside. “Maybe you’ll stay a while longer?” he asked.

Javert shook his head. “I can’t. I have work tomorrow. Beside, we are all tired.”

Valjean’s face dimmed a bit, but he nodded. He took a step toward him and embraced him, feeling him tense up. “Thank you for coming,” he mumbled.

Javert felt his cheeks prickle. The fact that he came was nothing unusual. Valjean was his friend, why would he not come for his birthday?

Valjean stepped away, allowing him to walk outside.

Cosette and Marius went away, chatting loudly, and Javert turned in the other direction, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He gave Valjean a last glance.

Valjean smiled to him, then looked at the corner behind which Cosette and Marius were just disappearing. He was not alone, and he will never be again.

**Author's Note:**

> Embrace the cheesiness


End file.
